


Control

by brookebond



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied Torture, dark!Q, it doesn't get that far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: What else was he meant to do when he got caught?





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you alexandre00q and jaimistoryteller for looking over this and helping me decide if it was angst or not!
> 
> This has been briefly edited so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I thought I caught them all.

It was unfortunate really that Bond had found him, had discovered what he did for fun. It was kind of a pain in the arse, if he was going to be honest. Things had been going swimmingly, no one suspected him as anything more than exactly what he looked like. It was the perfect guise. But it was all over now. Bond had found him and he was going to have to move on. Not before he got to have a little fun, though.

It was going to be a shame to destroy that perfectly sculpted body. Bond was so pretty. He’d wanted to get to sample the double-oh for himself; to lick the sweat off him after a vigorous fuck, to bite and bring the agent to a screaming orgasm, to make him forget his own name. It was something he would have to accept. The situation was one he couldn’t get out of.

Time was running out. If he didn’t take care of Bond then and there it was going to come back and bite him in the arse which was something he wasn’t looking forward to at all. He was already going to have to give up his job and create a new identity. It would be too difficult with MI6’s finest scouring the world for him. This was the only option left.

Groans alerted him to Bond awakening behind him. Time was creeping up on him and he still hadn’t decided on which tool to use. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed the table in front of him. It was full of his favourite tools; knives ranging from scalpels to cleavers, vials full of different homemade poisons, cuffs, a cattle prod, even a branding iron with the binary code ‘101 0001’ on it. He hadn’t used the iron in too long and eyed it lovingly. That would be the perfect way to finish Bond off and to let MI6 know just who had caught their precious agent.

As the sounds grew louder, he selected his tool—a scalpel. He planned to start small and work his way to bigger things that would leave more damage. He knew Bond could handle most forms of torture but this wasn’t about breaking the double-oh, no, this was about pleasure. Not Bond’s, his. He wasn’t going to waste his one opportunity on rushing to the finish line. He wanted to savour each and every sound he could coax from the agent. There was a camera off to one side so he could keep a record of it, rewatch when he needed a little reminder of the agent, remind himself just how much fun he’d had with Bond.

It really was a shame it all had to end this way.

He turned around, weapon in hand, and was met by those icy blue eyes. He smirked as the agent’s eyes widened, taking in him and the tiny knife in his hand.

“Q.”


End file.
